


A Night At The Opera

by Kazewrites



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Drabble, Established Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens), Established Relationship, Fanfiction, Fluff and Angst, Ineffable Husbands (Good Omens), M/M, Oblivious Aziraphale (Good Omens), Sick Character, Sick Crowley (Good Omens), Sickfic, Sneezing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-10
Updated: 2019-11-10
Packaged: 2021-01-27 06:31:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 960
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21387673
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kazewrites/pseuds/Kazewrites
Summary: Crowley isn't feeling great but he doesn't want to ruin Aziraphale's outing.
Relationships: Aziraphale & Crowley (Good Omens), Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Comments: 6
Kudos: 178





	A Night At The Opera

Why did Aziraphale have to choose the most boring outings for them to go on? Though Crowley loved spending anytime with the fussy angel, he was starting to wish he'd picked their outing. Or at least put it off a day or two, he hadn't been feeling great since yesterday.

Hiking up his coat, the cold winter wind blew around as he exited the Bentley. Sniffling he quickly rubbed his nose before he finally saw Aziraphale standing in front of the Opera House. That angelic smile warmed him a bit as he dug his hands into his pockets.

"Crowley," Aziraphale beamed wearing a tartan scarf around his neck. "I was beginning to wonder if you'd forgotten." His hands placed neatly behind his back as Aziraphale fell into step with Crowley as they climbed the stairs.

"'Course not." Crowley muttered sniffing again. The dry winter air irritated him almost as much of having to sit through three hours of people in costumes singing in another language.

"Good, I've been looking forward to this all week." Aziraphale's face lit up as the ushers pulled open the doors.

That smile. For that, Crowley would do his best not to fall asleep. They were seated in a private box with a stellar view of the stage. Crowley was used to Aziraphale's wiggles but the excited angel could barely keep still as he gazed around while people filled in the other seats. Crowley leaned back in the chair crossing his ankles, arms crossed, he'd hoped the Opera House would be warmer but he still winters grip.

Aziraphale began talking about this specific opera, historical little facts about it, the performers, little Aziraphale-esque tidbits. Crowley was trying to pay attention, really he was but his head above his eyes began to hurt and it seemed worse anytime he sniffed.

Finally as the lights went down, Crowley turned briefly to fiercely rub his itching nose.

The opera was as boring as Crowley had dreaded. He'd nearly fallen asleep less than 10 minutes in but a swift elbow from Aziraphale jogged him up. His nose continued to itch while the congested feeling mounting in his face and head grew. A glance at his watch didn't help, he was trapped for at least another hour before intermission. The only bright spot was watching Aziraphale indulging in the opera as the angel swayed with the orchestra and singing.

"She's very good." Aziraphale whispered looking at the high soprano as he leaned over to Crowley.

"Yes, very." Crowley replied happy it was dark as felt a shiver rock him. More scrubbing at his nose and sniffling did nothing but increase Crowley's foul mood.

As the first half reached its climax, Crowley stifled a dry sneeze into his elbow.

Hp'tsh!

Thankfully he righted himself just as the house lights came on signaling intermission.

Aziraphale was practically bouncing as they walked down to the lobby. "This rendition reminds me of the 1786 original. Wolfgang did absolutely splendid job of conducting and...Crowley?"

"Hmm?" Crowley looked over lazily at Aziraphale whose expression bore a bit of concern.

"Something wrong, my dear?" Aziraphale asked knitting his hands in front of him.

"No, no, what would be wrong?" The demon lied.

Aziraphale frowned. "You're not enjoying it are you?" His brow creased, Crowley internally hissed.

"I-I-It's fine, angel." Crowley stammered looking away so he could thumb the side of his nose hoping to dispose of the growing itch. Aziraphale began speaking again but Crowley wasn't paying attention. His hand now pressed firmly against his face as the pressure pinching his sinuses grew. Crowley thanked the devil no one could see how badly his eyes were blinking fighting the ticklish sensation.

"Crowley?"

His other hand rose holding up a finger. Crowley's breath hitched before he muffled several gruff stifles.

K'tsh! H'knxdt! Ip'tsschju!

Sadly the last one got away from him. Sniffling hard, Crowley massaged his temples.

"So you're faking sick now?" Aziraphale huffed.

Crowley cursed.

"Really Crowley even for you this is..." Aziraphale stopped suddenly.

The demon finally glanced over meeting the angels blue eyes.

"You're...not faking." Aziraphale swallowed. "Are you?" He looked away as the call that intermission would be ending came over.

"T's fine, angel. Come on." Crowley started passed him but a gentle hand reached out stopping him.

"Maybe something else for now, this can't be good for your headache." Aziraphale said pulling Crowley along with him.

Out on the street, Aziraphale wrapped his tartan scarf around Crowley who pulled it up mostly to hide how red his face turned.

"M'sorry." Crowley said looking down.

"Well you should be." Aziraphale said stiffly as they walked. "I'm quite disappointed with you not telling me how you felt."

Crowley continued staring at the sidewalk. "Didn't want you to miss it."

Aziraphale clicked his tongue, "My dear, one can easily miracle an open spot for another night. Now in you go." They'd reached the bookshop. Stepping in the warm air hit Crowley's cold face giving immediate relief.

In the back, Aziraphale poured some drinks while Crowley spread himself out on the sofa.

"You're upset, I understand." Crowley said taking the scotch glass.

"I am..." Aziraphale paused as he sat, "disappointed..." He took a quick sip. "At myself."

The angel spoke so quietly, Crowley wasn't sure he'd heard him but the look on Aziraphale's face confirmed it. "Why?" He asked sniffling again which caused him to wince.

"I should have noticed. Friends for 6000 years and all." Aziraphale said into his glass.

Crowley wave him off but then turned his head toward the cushion.

Hhh'tssshjuh! Heh'hhhtschew!

"What the Heaven did I do to deserve this?" He groaned resting his arm against his forehead.

"Don't worry dear, just relax for now."

Now that Crowley could easily agree to.


End file.
